


Investment

by Duckay



Series: Investment [1]
Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Anal Sex, Casual Sex, Hair-pulling, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 04:54:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7154408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duckay/pseuds/Duckay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tyler saw something he wanted, he went for it. If he couldn’t get it, it was clearly unworthy of him, so he didn’t want it anymore. In this case, he wants his new tag-team partner, and if Fandango is willing to obey a few ground rules, they can be a stunning combination.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Investment

**Author's Note:**

> I have several works in progress I should be working on, and yet this idea wormed into my brain and wouldn't stop until I wrote it.
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr! http://proceduralbob.tumblr.com/

Offended as Tyler would be to hear it, Fandango had never thought all that much about the blond man before the tag-team mess had started. He was around, he was nice to look at when the mood struck, but he never occupied more than the slightest bit of brainspace in Fandango’s mind.

And yet, now he was here, standing a mere few feet away from Fandango as they prepared for their match. For a given value of “prepared”, at least - Tyler was inspecting himself in the full-length mirror he’d insisted on having access to. Possibly inspecting himself, anyway. It was possible he was just gazing. Of course, why wouldn’t he? There was plenty in Tyler Breeze worth looking at.

That thought had no sooner crossed his mind than Fandango realized Tyler was, in fact, not quite looking at himself in the mirror. In fact, Tyler was looking over his reflection’s shoulder. He was looking at Fandango. When their eyes met, he didn’t look even the slightest bit embarrassed to have been caught out. His expression wasn’t quite a smile, but there was a hint of appreciation, a raised eyebrow, an almost thoughtful look in his eye. It was unusual enough for Tyler to be caught looking at something other than his own gorgeous face, but thoughtfulness was not something that Fandango usually associated with the younger man. That is, if thoughtful was quite the right word to describe it. It wasn’t simply that there was something on his mind; it was almost calculating.

It wasn’t worth asking what he was thinking about, because if Fandango knew anything at all about Tyler it was that any thought that managed to flit through would either soon be spoken aloud, or forgotten about never to be heard from again. And either way, there were more important matters at hand. Any moment, they would have to make their way to the ring.

Everything that followed seemed to happen in a smooth motion, so quickly that Fandango wasn’t sure he could possibly have stopped it even if he was inclined to. Tyler had turned from the mirror, stepping forward, pressing into Fandango’s personal space. One arm wrapped around the back of his neck, tugging him in close, bare chests bumping slightly. Their lips touched, briefly, and it… Something about it felt different than any other kiss Fandango had ever been surprised by.

Not to say that he seemed _uninterested_. The briefest flicker of Tyler’s tongue against Fandango’s lower lip and the tightening of the arm around him told him that whatever Tyler had hoped to find, he had, in fact, found. But there was a hint, too, that if he hadn’t found that, he would have just happily stepped back and gone on to wrestle the match without feeling for a second like he’d lost anything. Like there was simply nothing at stake. Interest, but no investment.

When Tyler slowly pulled back, releasing the weight of his arm and stepping away, there was only the faintest hint of a cheeky glint in his eyes to indicate how much he enjoyed it. There were no words shared between them as they made their way to the ring. A part of Fandango really did want to ask why, what had brought that on, what it meant, but it didn’t feel like quite the time. Would it ever feel like the time? Probably not.

* * *

 

It was overwhelming, how easily Tyler Breeze had gone in for post-match celebration. Of course, it wasn’t weird for tagteam partners to embrace after a victory, but Tyler always gave off this air like he was too good for that, like he wouldn’t stoop that low. He moved in eagerly for the hug, though, as he slid out of the ring and threw an arm around Fandango as they started to make their way out. It seemed easy, natural, to throw his arms around the younger man’s shoulders in return before he remembered himself and stepped back to raise his arm in triumph. Tyler’s body stiffened at the loss of contact and Fandango didn’t really think about it as he slid back into the side-hug.

By the time they’d gotten back to the locker room, Fandango couldn’t stop his eyes skating to the patch of red at Tyler’s hairline. He wasn’t even sure when it had happened, much less how. Probably R-Truth - he was sloppy, and seemed like the type to hold a grudge. He moved to grab a cloth, to help clean it up, but before he could, Tyler’s mouth was on his again. Judging from the ferocity of it, he’d probably been waiting for it since ringside, just looking for a few seconds of privacy.

The kiss couldn’t have been more different than their last. Even though the match had been short, Tyler was breathless and sweaty, not to mention the blood, and that seemed to translate into something more intense, like something had awoken in him. It definitely didn’t feel low-stakes now. Tyler was kissing him like he couldn’t get enough, could never get enough, one hand cupped at the back of Fandango’s head and fingers of the other hand curling through one of his belt loops, pulling him close.

It distantly occurred to him that now was the time to question it, before things went any further. Where did this come from, what did it mean, what expectations did Tyler have of this? What was going on inside that pretty little head of his?

Instead, as they parted for breath, all he was able to manage was, “How’d you know I -”

It seemed like a stupid question as soon as he’d asked it. Tyler didn’t seem like the kind of person to really care about whether his advance would be accepted before making it. Actually, Tyler didn’t really seem like the kind of person who made advances. Surely he was the sort who was chased, not who gave chase? But either way, the question had a major flaw, and was met with a scoff, as Tyler simply gestured, with a pitying look, to his own face.

Okay. So that was foolish. Fandango took a deep breath to steady himself, though he was somewhat distracted by the realization that even though Tyler’s lips were no longer touching his and the hand on his head had drifted away, the fingers of Tyler’s other hand still lingered at his waist. Not that it could be seen in Tyler’s face; he looked thoroughly disinterested, only a fraction of a breath from being outright bored.

“Okay,” he breathed, leaning forward to press his lips against Tyler’s again. A voice in the back of his mind chimed at him to think about the possible downsides but - realistically, what downsides? They were both gorgeous, they were both interested, and Tyler certainly didn't seem like the type to get clingy or emotional.

The kiss attempt was interrupted by Tyler’s fingers raising to Fandango’s lips, keeping his face at a distance. It didn’t feel like a rejection, as such. Not when his hips were still so close, just begging for him to swivel and rock up against him. Tyler’s garish purple tights were doing nothing to disguise his interest, and there was no shame in the way he pushed forward against the dancer. And yet, he was obviously holding something back.

“Ground rules,” he began, and his tone was businesslike in a way that seemed at odds with the way he was still slowly grinding against Fandango. Not knowing what else to do with his hands, Fandango dropped them to Tyler’s hips, encouraging, inviting, but not actually increasing the contact. Fandango tried to say something to that, but Tyler’s fingers were still at his lips, shushing him.

“One, beds only. I have standards.”

The implications of those words seared across the wall inside Fandango’s mind. _Obviously_ when two guys started kissing and grinding on each other in the locker room it was only a matter of time - but, he’d said practically nothing to Tyler about any of this, they’d only kissed twice. Tyler moved fast.

It sounded good.

“Two,” Tyler continued, clearing his throat slightly and interrupting Fandango’s internal monologue, “I don’t get on my knees for anyone. That’s just something you’ll have to deal with.”

The thought of Tyler on his knees was something that hadn’t even occurred to him until it was off the table, when it filled his imagination in glorious high-definition. Obviously Tyler knew exactly how tempting that visual was, because no sooner had he pictured it than he realized the real Tyler was smirking and shaking his head firmly.

“Uh-uh. Picture it if you like, but it stays there. Rule three, you don’t get to leave a mark anywhere you can’t afford. That means all of me.” Fandango’s fingers dug a little harder on Tyler’s hip, in a silent protest, but Tyler just kept smirking at him, though the way he rocked his hips into Fandango’s indicated that he wasn’t really unhappy with the possessive hold. “And four,” god, four, he had _four_ rules that needed to be followed, “you’re not having me in any way that means you can’t see my face. You still in?”

Tyler’s fingers dropped from Fandango’s mouth, waiting for an answer. Fandango wasn’t exactly surprised that Tyler would turn out to be so high-maintenance, though it still wasn’t exactly encouraging, but the press of Tyler’s hard cock through the thin material of their tights was starting to become more than just distracting. He was certain that Tyler could feel him too, pressed together as they were, and knew exactly how tempted he’d be, no matter how many rules he had.

Well, he could take a page out of Tyler’s book. If it didn’t work out, there was nothing at stake anyway.

“Still in.”

* * *

 

Fandango was only dimly aware of how they’d gotten out of their ring gear and made it back to Tyler’s hotel room. Time had seemed to skip, and his breath was still coming a little shorter and sharper than he’d like. But still, there they were. The scratch on Tyler’s forehead had been wiped up, but not covered, leaving a little red mark marring his beauty. Tyler was looking at him almost shyly, another expression that looked out of place on him.

The door had only just swung shut when Tyler was on him again, pushing him into the wall, tongue pressing forward insistently as his hands crawled up and under Fandango’s shirt. Their lips broke apart only long enough to slip their shirts off. Fandango was more than happy to go eagerly into whatever Tyler wanted, at least for the moment, but couldn't help but be surprised at how forward he was, how little time was wasted.

Of course, there was an easy explanation. Tyler saw something he wanted, he went for it. If he couldn’t get it, it was clearly unworthy of him, so he didn’t want it anymore.

One of Fandango’s hands settled on the back of Tyler’s head, pulling at the short ponytail and letting the hair spill free, while the other slid down to the small of Tyler’s back, fingers slipping just under the waistband. He wasn’t entirely surprised to feel Tyler shrug free, pull back, his lips kiss-swollen as he looked up with no trace of his usual unaffected narcissism. It seemed to only make sense that a man who had those kinds of ground rules about fooling around would probably have some unspoken rules about his hair or something.

What _was_ surprising was the slightly gravelly, lust-fueled voice, whispering, “Bed. Now.”

If he hadn’t been on-board with this weird sex thing with Tyler already, that certainly sent a spark of lightning straight to his cock. He pulled again at Tyler’s hair experimentally - not quite enough to really pull many strands loose, but enough to be felt, and this time caught the slightly lost look as Tyler’s head tilted back to follow his hand just a little too eagerly. Well. That something to note for the future.

They made their way to the bed in a flurry of movement, shoes kicked off and left haphazardly on the floor. Tyler sat down on the bed first, tugging his trousers down, hesitating only for a moment before his underwear followed, and he laid himself down invitingly. Fandango could see that Tyler was only half-hard when he first stripped down, but under his appreciative gaze, that was quickly changing.

“Well, come on,” Tyler’s voice broke the silence, and Fandango suddenly realized he’d been staring, mouth dry, making no effort to move things forward. “I _know_ you’re not having second thoughts.”

Fandango moved forward, crawling over Tyler, hands planted on either side of that perfect jaw, and kissing him deeply. This was met with a soft moan, which he drank down, feeling Tyler arch up underneath him, bare cock rubbing against the cotton fabric of Fandango’s trousers. Deft fingers slid to his waistband, working at the button and zipper eagerly. As their lips parted for just a moment, Tyler pushed up suddenly, hand sliding around to Fandango’s lower back and using that to help him reverse their positions.

Tyler had never looked more beautiful than he did in that moment, naked, straddling Fandango’s hips, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. He pushed himself to his knees and looked expectantly at Fandango, who finally got the message enough to push his trousers down past his hips and kick them off and away. Before he even realized what was happening, Tyler had shifted down the bed a few inches and curled his fingers around Fandango’s hard cock, pumping it almost experimentally.

“Come on,” Tyler whispered again, reaching with his free hand for Fandango’s hand and pulling him up from where he was collapsed against the pillows into a sitting position so they were, again, chest to chest. The hand on Fandango’s cock released its grip, then grazed over his abs and reached for Fandango’s other hand to guide it to Tyler’s hip. His thumb dug in for just a moment in the dip of Tyler’s hipbone, before skating around to cup the man’s bare ass. This meant Tyler shifted his weight forward, whether from surprise or enjoyment, and their erections brushed together with a spark of what felt like electricity.

Their lips met again suddenly, fiercely, and Fandango wasn’t quite sure which of them made the first move. He could feel his lower lip being pulled into Tyler’s mouth and teeth grinding over it gently, as he kneaded at the muscle of Tyler’s ass and pulled him in impossibly closer to rub their cocks together again. The moan that Tyler couldn’t quite stifle spurred him on, so he pulled the hand back a little and slapped lightly, feeling the jiggle under his hand. As Tyler flexed forward a little, apparently unconsciously, he did it again, a little harder. The second time, Tyler pulled away from the kiss. Fandango tensed, fearing that perhaps he’d gone a little further than Tyler was comfortable with, but when their eyes met, he took note of the heavily lidded, slightly unfocused eyes, the way Tyler’s wet mouth hung slightly open.

“Don’t do that again unless you want me to come before you even get in me.” Tyler’s voice was very serious, surprisingly so, and that made Fandango’s mouth quirk into a small smile. On the one hand, he didn’t want to do anything that would risk not being able to fuck Tyler properly, thoroughly, and he had to assume that Tyler wasn’t going to be the kind of person to invite hanging around after an orgasm for round two. On the other hand, very little he’d ever seen before in his life was quite as gorgeous as Tyler so breathless and horny, so his hand was already tingling to grab him and slap that sweet little ass again.

Before he could say or do anything more, though, Tyler was scrambling out of his lap, digging into his luggage, his hard, leaking cock bouncing as he moved. A bottle of lubricant and a pack of condoms landed on the bed before Tyler crawled back after them, leaning in for another quick kiss before pulling back, pushing the bottle directly into Fandango’s hand.

Fandango slicked his fingers as he watched Tyler, carefully, for maybe some hint about what he expected. Tyler had been the one to take the lead in everything up to that moment, of course. After a moment, Tyler swung his leg over Fandango’s lower body again, reaching out to guide his hand by the wrist. One finger sank easily into Tyler’s warm heat, surprisingly so, really, and Tyler’s eyes flashed with an eager lust as he rolled his hips into the sensation. He rocked his finger in and out for a moment before adding a second - a little more of a stretch, but a challenge Tyler was clearly happy to face as he leaned back to support his weight on one hand and breathed hard, ragged, his eyes never leaving Fandango’s. Tyler was doing more of the work than Fandango was, his hips rising and falling as he fucked himself, finding his own rhythm.

“M’ready,” Tyler murmured suddenly, reaching for the condoms with a hand that Fandango was surprised to see was shaking a little. He tore one of the tiny packets open with ease, then slipped it onto Fandango’s cock, still without breaking the rather intense eye contact.

Fandango held himself steady with one hand as Tyler slicked him with lubricant then started, with little fanfare, to sink down onto it, his thighs trembling a little as he moved carefully, taking it in a fraction at a time. His eyes fluttered shut at the sensation, and their ragged breaths fell into a rhythm as Fandango felt himself engulfed by Tyler’s tight hole and tried to will himself to let Tyler keep setting the pace, to keep his hips steady and still.

Tyler’s eyes opened slowly as he was filled completely, his hands falling to Fandango’s chest and stomach to support himself. They stayed that way for a moment as Tyler became accustomed to the sensation, until he purred, “Now show me what those hips can really do.”

That was an invitation it would have been impossible to deny. Fandango bent his legs at the knee for a little leverage and rocked his hips up and into Tyler, then swiveled in a motion that made Tyler tilt his head back and make a sound more like a whimper than anything he’d heard out of the man before. The precum leaking from Tyler’s cock was leaving a trail across Fandango’s abs, so he reached down to wrap a hand around it, thumb skating over the head as he pushed his hips up again, driving his cock deep into the other man.

Tyler shifted his hips, tilting his body forward as he leaned close, planting a hand on either side of Fandango’s head. Obviously the change in angle did something for him, because he very nearly stumbled, having to try twice to keep enough strength in his arms to support him, and another whimper fell from his soft pink lips. His hair was hanging around his face wildly, wet with sweat and without order, and it presented such a tempting target that Fandango couldn’t help but slide his hand in. His fingers twisted through it and he pulled, a little harder than he had before, just as he thrust deep into the man riding him again.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, damn,” the expletives fell from Tyler’s lips as his head tilted back again, and he rocked his hips, any better words lost to him. Fandango pulled him closer by the hair to plant a kiss where sweat was pooling on his throat, then on a whim, let his teeth graze softly over the sensitive skin there. Not hard enough to leave a mark and break Tyler’s precious ground rules, but certainly enough to be felt.

“I’m gonna -” Tyler began, his breathing coming in ragged puffs as he shifted his position one final time and one of the hands holding him upright moved to where Fandango still had a hand on his cock, a silent plea to move faster.

Tyler looked so good in that moment; Fandango had the impression that he almost never pleaded for anything, verbally or otherwise, and as that sheer vulnerability in his eyes hit him, he heard the soft moan fall from his own lips and his orgasm hit him, unexpectedly. Perhaps he’d been too caught up in thinking about Tyler to realize how close it was. Surely he wouldn’t be the first person to have been in that situation. Tyler’s orgasm followed seconds later, spilling over both their hands and stomachs.

They stayed like that for a moment, breathing heavily. Tyler moved first, because of course he did, pushing Fandango’s hand out of his hair with one hand and sweeping it back as he slowly pushed himself to his knees, letting the softening cock fall out of him. His muscles seemed to be twitching a little as he swung his leg over Fandango so he could get out of bed, and he was still flushed with exertion and damp with sweat, but everything else in his movements seemed quite unaffected.

“I’m showering,” he announced, before he simply stepped out of the room.

No pleasantries, no invitations to stay or instructions to leave. Fandango got the distinct impression that, as far as Tyler was concerned, that wasn’t important, and would be sorted out when relevant. But, even if Tyler didn’t care if he stayed or left, it seemed rude to just walk out without saying goodbye. The condom was removed and dropped into the wastebasket by the bed, and Fandango shuffled himself into a comfortable position to wait for his lover to return.


End file.
